


Countryhumans Reader Insert

by casualhottubnacho



Category: Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: CountryHumans - Freeform, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Not Shippy, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-07-19 16:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualhottubnacho/pseuds/casualhottubnacho
Summary: Hello! Welcome to... Hell. This started off as a crack-fic where I tried to make fun of reader inserts/ X Readers, but, uh... It got a little out of hand. Now I'm taking it semi-seriously. It still holds that goofy, snarky tone, though!Please, make sure to read the Need To Know part at the beginning. It's really important that you do, because it holds a lot of important information, including how certain characters will be treated, trigger warnings, and information on the book itself.Warnings: Mentions of Nazism, The Third Reich of Germany, Imperial Japan, Fascist Italy, Cursing, War/Violence and all that comes with it (I.e. Blood, Weapons, ect.), Kidnapping, Child Abuse, TortureMore to be added.Tags are susceptible to change, cross-posted on Wattpad





	1. NEED TO KNOW

Warnings: Mentions of Nazism, The Third Reich of Germany, Imperial Japan, Fascist Italy, Cursing, War/Violence and all that comes with it (I.e. Blood, Weapons, ect.), Kidnapping, Child Abuse, Torture  
More to be added.

This is SUPER edgy, as you can so clearly see by the Trigger Warnings. I won't warn at the start of chapters because there will, in all honesty, be topics that are mentioned and topics that will go into detail about each and every tag, so they're essentially in all chapters. Please, be safe, don't read anything you aren't comfortable with!

This is not an X Reader. I'll say it again. This is NOT an X Reader. Friendship, not romance. You won't be able to date or bang anybody by reading this book. It's platonic times only in this hellhole.


	2. Jack Kahuna Lagoona

"Bro what the fuck?" You mutter, setting your laptop to the side. The video that was playing, Everbody's Circulation, seems to quiet in volume as you stare at the swirling mess of colors in the middle of your apartment. Being a basic bitch, you stand and stride over to it. As the lyrics to All Star by Smash Mouth blasts over the familiar rhythm, you stick a hand through the thing, which you have deemed to be a portal. You don't know why. It just felt right.

Your fingertips are immediately chilled to the bone as something soft blazes past. You can feel the rough, splintery surface of wood bark on the other side. When you yank yourself back, there's a thin layer of snow coating your now-numb hands. Some of the flakes are drifting into your living room from the portal. Something in your gut tells you two things, both of which you are very inclined to do.

A. Go through the portal. It won't go away until you do- and

B. Get some warmer clothes, like holy shit it's fucking cold.

Of course, you go to complete the second task first. Striding into your room, you snatch a thick turtleneck sweater and a puffy jacket with fluff around the edge of the hood. Just as you're about to walk back out, you pause and have a rather smart idea. If you're going to be going through a magic portal into an unknown time, space, and reality, wouldn't it be nice to bring a bag with you? With that thought in mind, you shove a phone charger, a flashlight, three types of batteries still in the packs, three changes of clothes, a pair of scissors, and two rolls of Scotch tape into a backpack. You would have added more clothes, but they were all that would fit in the bag.

On your way back into the living room, you make a pit stop in the kitchen. You grab a small knife from the holder and slip it into the bag before grabbing the largest size Ziploc baggie you can (Gallon Size). You pile as many non-perishable foods that aren't canned into the bag, which is mainly rice, pasta, and Spam, putting that in the second largest pocket of the bookbag. Even though it's starting to run out of space, you swipe cans upon cans into it before struggling to zip it closed. You succeed and re-enter the living room.

Standing in the middle of your living room is something, or rather someone, who makes your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You're wearing the turtleneck and jacket over the tee shirt you had on originally, and the backpack is on your back as well. The man in your living room is dressed like a proper gentleman, with a crisp black coat, a top hat that almost seems to be floating, and... a monocle. That's what makes you snort. The man is wearing a damn monocle. He's staring around at your living room with eyes that look as if they may pop out at any second with how wide they are.

The fact that you're about to waltz through a portal in the middle of your living room still hasn't truly sunk in yet, so this stranger about to touch your things with white-gloved hands doesn't faze you at all. What does pique your interest is the fact that his face is the flag of Great Britain. There's no sign of paint, and you doubt it's a tattoo. The colors are too vibrant to be inked skin. As you're thinking these things, the flag-faced individual catches sight of you.

"Oh! Uhm- Hello madam! Or sir! Or neither! Do you- I mean- I didn't break into your home, I swear! I was simply on my way to a meeting when I just... wasn't in the forest anymore. I know it sounds odd, but-" He's started to ramble, so you decide to cut him off. "It's fine, whoever you are. I was about to go through the portal thingy right there, but since you're here, maybe you can tell me where it leads to." The man blinks before flashing you an awkward smile.

"Either we're both crazy or something higher than us is going on. I was on the path through a forest to go visit the Soviet Union in his base." 

Your eyebrows almost hit the ceiling. "The Soviet Union, you say? As in, the USSR? Communism and all that jazz?" You muse. The stranger gives you an odd look and nods slowly. "You guys roleplayers or something?" You ask. "I don't... What? Mx., I am Great Britain. You know of the country manifestations, correct?" He takes a step towards you. You blink in confusion a few times before letting out a strangled laugh. Things are starting to come together. "Holy balls. What year is it?" You suddenly demand, trying to resist bouncing on the balls of your feet. This could be fun, if your assumption is correct. The man sighs and eyes you warily. 

"1941."

You start laughing. Hard. You may never have laughed so hard in your life. 'Great Britain', as he claims to be, starts to edge away. You're holding your chest as you lean on the wall for support. "Lord Jesus, am I about to go through time?" You finally wheeze out, making eye contact with the man in your house who claims to be in the year 1941. "And- And the month? The day?" Great Britain looks reluctant to do so, but manners overtake his unwillingness. "It's December 6th."

That sends a chill down your spine. "December 6th, 1941." You echo. Great Britain seems unsettled by the sudden change in mood. The day Pearl Harbor was bombed (or is to be bombed) is December 7th, 1941. America joins the war on December 11th, 1941. You shiver as the thought hits you. If these people are countries, but as living people, you don't want to imagine what will happen.

Then a darker thought comes to mind. The Third Reich of Germany is still in power. You make eye contact with Great Britain. You know that your universe is completely different from theirs already, seeing as how the man in front of you could never exist here. You straighten up and extend your hand. "I'm [Y/N]. And right here, right now, in my world, it's 2019." You flash him a grin when his breathing goes funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well heckity heck heck this was supposed to be a shitpost but wowie im taking it seriously now


	3. Flowing Hair She Was A Cutie Pie

When Great Britain tries to sit down and process what you just told him, you grab him by the arm and yank him to his feet. "Sorry, my guy, but we have to go through the magic portal thing. I would honestly love to fucking dunk on the Soviet Union and deck that Nazi bitch in the jaw." A cold determination in your veins is sending a flurry of ideas through your head. You could possibly change some other timeline's future for the better! 

He doesn't realize that you've already dragged him through until the snow hits both of your faces. By the time he tries to turn around, the portal snaps shut with something terrifyingly close to a scream. You hope it'll come back later. Your heart almost stops when you pat your pockets. "Oh, shit- Fuck, no, no, wait- Oh thank the Lord Jesus it's in my pants." You let out a heavy sigh of relief as you pull your phone out of your back pocket. Despite Britain's gaze on you, you hit the home button and check the time. For some unknown reason, the date managed to actually change. It honestly sort of terrified you when you saw that it was indeed 1941.

"Huh. Same time, too. 4:30 PM." You pause and look at Great Britain, who looks a little impressed with your phone. "Why were you in the middle of a frozen forest at 4:30 in the afternoon? Wouldn't you want to wait until night or something?" He ignores your question and instead asks one of his own. "Is that like a watch? Why's it so big?" You choke on air for a second and throw your head back. "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" You scream. Great Britain slaps a hand over your mouth before yanking back. "Ah- Sorry! I- Just don't yell. That'll attract attention that we don't want. Only I have permission to be here, along with China, who should be there already. But- What was that? What does it mean?"

You whisper the meaning in his ear and he flushes. "Oh my god. That- That's-" You giggle and nod. "Yup. But, uh, to answer your first question, it's quite a lot more than a watch. It's a cellphone. Do you guys have phones yet? I think so. It's- It's like a normal phone, but instead of just calling someone, you can call, message, search for information, listen to music, watch videos, buy things online, go on social media... Uh, yeah, I think that's about it. Like- Watch me." You hit the home button again and swipe your pattern. 

"Hey Google," You start. The screen lights up. You pause, trying to think of a question that won't give too much away. You finally decide to kill two birds with one stone. "Play my Google Play playlist 'Perish'." The screen shows the loading symbol for a heartbeat. Alright. Playing your playlist 'Perish'. You quickly turn up the volume as Baby Hotline by Jack Stauber starts to play. You quietly hum the song as Great Britain scrambled over and tries to figure out where the sound is coming from. You're honestly having a good time watching his mouth fall open as he realizes that it is indeed coming from your phone.

You pause the song about a minute in and put the phone in your jacket pocket. It's doing a pretty good job at keeping out the cold, but your face is starting to go numb. "So, how about we get going?" Though it's phrased as a question, it's really an order. Britain nods and starts down 

the path.

~A time skip~

You don't bother to ask how far away you are, because you know once you ask the first time, you'll keep asking until you're there. Instead, once you got bored with walking, you decide you'll take your phone back out. Now is that period of boredom. While Britain talks quietly to himself in front of you, you decide to play Minecraft for a little bit. You want to stay as far away from social media as you can while you're here. You don't want to interfere with your own timeline at all, and the fact that time is correct on your phone yet still fucked up is a topic you don't want to touch on.

So you just play Minecraft.

Your house in Creative just barely gets finished when you bump into Britain's back. You turn your phone off and hum. "We here?" You ask. He nods in response. You smile and try to edge around him to look at the building. "This is honestly the craziest thing I've ever done," You laugh. He steps in front of you and put a hand on your forearm. "Stay behind me. I wasn't supposed to bring anyone. The Soviet Union isn't going to want to hear me out."

As if his words summoned them, a pair of soldiers rounded the corner, each one tightly clutching a rifle. It was silent for a moment before one of them spoke. "You were followed." He hissed. You could hardly make out the words through the accent. "I brought them with me. I wasn't followed." Great Britain responds sharply. You purse your lips. "I mean, technically, you were, seeing as how I was walking behind you the whole time." Britain rounds on you, his brow twitching in annoyance. "Do you want to get shot?"He snaps. You beam. "Oh yeah totally. 2019 fucking sucks, man. We end up with some racist white guy who looks like an old Cheeto as our president and are like, the third most depressed country in the world." When he scowls deeply, you give him a thumbs up. One of the soldiers, possibly the one that spoke, steps closer. "I will 

gladly shoot any American who comes through here." 

"Hey, no, don't do that, I'll consider that an attack on me."

You open your mouth to respond, but a slam from in front of you makes you stop. You snap your head over and quietly gasp. There's another one of those country people, this time with vibrant red skin and a hammer-and-sickle symbol above their left eye. "Oh, shit!" You whisper. USSR gives both you and Great Britain a scathing look that makes you want to curl up and die. "What, exactly, do you think you are doing here?" He demands. You know he's talking to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what am i doing with my l i f e


	4. Actually Meghan I Can't Sit Anywhere

This time, instead of snapping back, you drop your gaze. You can feel Britain tense up. "They are with me. It's because-" You cut him off. "No, you can't say, dammit! It's bad enough I told you, this could alter history forever!" Britain pauses before turning to face you. "Oh. I- Oh. You're right." The Soviet Union reaches the two of you in three long strides. "Can't say what?" He purrs. Britain flashes you a panicky look. Knowing the history of the towering country before you, you sigh. "Ah, shit, here we go again," You mutter dejectedly.

"So, basically, I'm from like... Hold on." You quietly count up the years in your head. "9 minus 1, that's 8... Okay, I'm from 78 years in the future. There was some weird-ass glowing thing in my living room so I went 'Oh worm? Guess I'll go through that thingy.', but it was as cold as a witch's tits in a metal bra, so I went and got some clothes and junk, but when I got back, Britain right here was in my living room looking very confused. So we had a mild conversation and I was like 'Haha what's the date my guy' and he said 'December 6th, 1941', which by the way, holy shit, tommo- No, nope, can't say that, future spoilers. Anywho, I had a fit because 'Time travel dimension travel time!', we went through the portal, and then we spent like two hours walking here, and boom. You're caught up."

You fist-pump the air and grin. Britain looks as if he may die on the spot. USSR gives you an almost-disgusted look. "I barely understood that." He finally says. You give him a sheepish look while Britain pinches the bridge of his nose, nudging the monocle. You bounce on your toes for a moment before sighing quietly. "Uh... what now?" You ask. USSR exhales sharply. "Well, you are already on my land. If what you say is true, which it is not, we cannot send you away. You are too valuable."

You put a hand on your chest. "Damn, if only my Ex-[Gender of your choosing]friend had said that to me. But, uh, it is true. I've got the proof in my pocket." You take your phone out and hit the home button. Nothing. A little worried now, you hold the power button. It buzzes in your hand and shows a harsh white 0% symbol. "...So my proof decided now would be a good time to die. Do you guys have power outlets?" When no one responds, a bead of sweat trickles down your neck. "Oh god, what if I can't charge my phone? That- Okay, while that was my main proof, it's still not that bad, yeah? It's not like I can really contact anyone, none of them exist yet."

Trying to reassure yourself, you squat down and set your bag in the snow. Ignoring USSR's quick steps towards you, you begin to rummage through the front pocket. "Uhm, okay, I have the charger and the block, that's good, that means I can charge it if I can find an outlet. Uhm... Where's the- Where are my fucking- Goddammit, I left my earbuds!" You're rambling to yourself at this point, completely tuning out everyone else. You don't have anything with you that's actually modern technology. Everything in your bag aside from your phone and charger already exists! Bordering on panic, you glance up at Great Britain, who's looking rather awkward under USSR's stare.

"You actually believed this person?" The Soviet Union snaps, gesturing to you. The soldiers start to step closer. Your chest is heaving as Great Britain makes eye contact with you. You can see that he does believe you, but he can't say that without seeming completely stupid. "Britain, my phone- It's dead! I have to plug it in with this," You lift up the cord, "And it'll be working again, but it's dead! I can't turn it on! Nobody's gonna believe me, what if they throw me into the snow, or shoot me, or kill me, I'd die in a totally different world and my family wouldn't be able to know that I was dead!"

Yup, you're panicking. You clutch your chest, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes. The barrel of a gun is pressing against the side of your skull. Your head is weightless yet a thousand tons all at the same time, the world is pitching left and right and spinning all around you, you can feel the tears freezing on your cheeks as the gun clicks, or maybe it didn't, you could just be imagining it, holy shit you're going to die-

A new, very blurry, very fuzzy shape emerges from the same doors as USSR did. You can't see him or Britain, but you can hear them arguing. This new person soaks in what's happening before yelling something out. You can hear their voice, but you can't make out the words. The edges of your vision are starting to go dark as the soldiers back away. The newcomer hurries over to you and gently touches your shoulder, saying something to you. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a whimper before you black out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a lot shorter.....(By about 200 words). I can't fukin believe I actually enjoy writing this, I wasn't joking when I said this was supposed to be a shitpost making fun of these Countryhumans/Reader books.


	5. Miss Kesha?? MISS KESHA?!

You shoot awake, keeping your eyes shut for as long as you can. You frantically rub your forehead and neck to try and wipe away any sweat, the action quickly letting you realize that both your jacket and your turtleneck are gone. You crack open your eyes and slowly soak in the room around you. It's a light shade of grey, with nothing in the room except for the shoddily made bed you're on, a bedside table with a lamp, and a table and chair in the corner.

On said table are your removed clothes and your bag. You glance back and forth before slowly and carefully sliding out of the bed, trying to make as little amount noise as possible. The floor creaks a little when you first touch it, but after that, it's silent. You tiptoe over to the table and throw the turtleneck back on, tying the jacket around your waist. You slip the bag over one of your shoulders and pat your coat pocket. Thank God, your phone's still in there.

Slipping out of the room, you leave the door open. It's heavy and would definitely slam if you tried to shut it. You're not paying enough attention as you start to walk down the hallway, trying to formulate a plan as quickly as you can. Should you run? That would be sort of stupid, where would you go? It's 1940-fucking-1, how would you live? You know nothing about the current culture, the only thing school taught you was what happened in World War Two. You don't really know how people lived their daily lives, and you would probably mess up the future by spilling the tea on things that won't exist for almost another 80 years. And even if you did want to run, which you don't, these human-country-things would most likely have no trouble tacking you down and possibly killing you.

Wrapped up in your thoughts, you hardly notice when you slam into something. Completely forgetting that this is not your hometown and people usually stop to at least apologize instead of continuing on, you keep moving, muttering to yourself under your breath. A tight hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. You flinch and turn to face the perpetrator, fully prepared to haul ass if this shoulder-toucher happens to be USSR. 

Whatever God may or may not exist is clearly not on your side, as, lo and behold, it is indeed the country (or union?) that you wanted to see least. The Soviet Union tightens his grip on your shoulder as if he read your thoughts. "You're awake." His voice is gruff. It seems neither of you wants to be here. You tighten your lips and rather roughly shove his hand away. "No shit, Sherlock." You tense as you think that he may question the reference, but his snort shows that the book may already exist. Damn, how old is that series? You'll have to look it up before too long. 

"You're a feisty one, I see. We'll have to fix that."

"Try and fix my attitude and I'll fix your nasty-ass face with a punch to the jaw."

You know immediately that that was the wrong thing to say. USSR's lip curls in something akin to disgust as his hand finds your shoulder once again. His grip is painful, to say the least. "I think you should be grateful you're not a bloody corpse left in the snow for the dogs." He snaps. You open your mouth to retort, a rather stupid decision, but you're saved from further embarrassment by two figures rounding the corner, chatting animatedly. They catch sight of your balled fists plus USSR's clenched jaw and decide now would a good time to intervene.

As they're approaching, you decide to take advantage of USSR's brief period of silence. Your eyes are narrowed as you scathingly rake your gaze over him, memories from history class and Googling things at midnight flicking through your mind. You remember quite a few things about the Soviet Union, but not nearly enough for you to properly interact. Hell, you probably couldn't write a one-page essay on him. 

You see his shoulder twitch as he whips around to glare at you once again. "Is there something you want to say, шлюха?" He snaps. You purse your lips and cross your arms. "I have no idea what that word means but it sounded insulting." Is your response. He gives you an unreadable look and turns back to the figures, who are close enough now to be identified as Great Britain and... Well, you can't exactly remember who they are, but you vaguely remember seeing the flag before. Though, if you had to guess, you'd say it was China. They were an Ally by now, right? Yeah, Britain has mentioned them earlier.

You shoot one last glance over to USSR. Just as you do, you notice him mouth something. Whore. You gasp, actually sort of offended at that. "Oh, you wanna fuckin' go?" You yelp, giving him a quick bird. That seems to have pushed him over the edge. 

"I don't think you understand who you're talking to! I-"

"I know what the hell you are! That doesn't change the fact that I refuse to converse normally with a mass-murderer!"

He grabs your collar with a clenched fist and snarls, "You need to watch your goddamn mouth." A vague thought in the back of your mind warns you to stop, but you don't listen. Instead, you reach into your pocket and pull out a rumpled, torn Uno Reverse Card. "No you," You whisper. The USSR's lip curls before he drops you to the floor. "I meant what I said. All of it." 

You click your tongue but don't say any more. Finally reaching you, Britain speaks up. "Were you two fighting?" You give him a deadpan look. China sighs, causing you to put your attention on him. "Obviously they were. Hello, by the way." Cracking a smile, you respond, "Hello to you too. You're the first to say that." You snort. He extends his hand to help you up, and you accept. "I'm (Y/N), by the way." 

Flashing you a grin, he responds, "China." You hum, unwilling to admit that you already sort of knew that. Britain clears his throat, so you give him the look he wants. "We need to figure out... your situation." He says rather awkwardly, casting a surprisingly subtle glance towards the phone in your coat. You flash him a half-second thumbs up.

"So. Is there... like... a power outlet I can use? It's got two slits at the top and a hole at the bottom and it's in the wall." Wildly gesturing as you speak, you fail to notice the sneer the Soviet Union gives you. "We know what a power outlet is." He snarks. You pause before dropping your hands.

"Ah."

It's tensely silent before you force out a grin. "Well then, lead the way!" Britain huffs out a laugh that doesn't go unheard by you, turning and striding down the hall. You follow immediately after, wanting to put as much space between you and the USSR as possible. It's a little difficult, seeing as how you're in the country at the moment, but eh. China follows directly behind you with USSR after him. The two quietly talk as you pick up your pace to talk to Britain.

"So, what's up?" You try. Britain smiles faintly. "I think we may be close to convincing America to join the war. I don't want any of this, but if we could get him on our side..." He trails off before suddenly snapping his head over to you. "You know what happens in the future. Do we convince him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwu


	6. 😔✊

Your body tenses against your will. Britain notices this and raises an eyebrow. "You do know." It's not a question. You wish it was. That way you'd be able to deny it. But would you? There are so many ways things could go wrong by saying that yes, you do know, but knowing what will happen could also change history for the better... Or, hell, nothing could happen at all! You could scream at anything that moves how the war ends and it would still happen exactly the same way. Or it could all go to shit and literally end the world.

Your head is starting to hurt.

Britain catches on to your frustration and nudges your shoulder. "Well? What happens?" He tries. You sigh a little too heavily for his tastes and glance back at the two countries following behind you. USSR raises an unamused eyebrow at you. Tightening your lips, you jerk your head in a clear gesture of Get over here. He rolls his eyes, but both China and he pick up their paces to join you.

"I'm just... thinking. Yes, I do know what happens. I know how the whole war turns out, including who's the mains on each side and which side loses. But I'm afraid that telling you guys these things, they won't turn out the way they should. I'm afraid of ruining the future. Like, if I tell you how a battle turns out, then you'll get cocky or confident and loose, which can possibly alter everything I know and love. But... there's another theory about time, where nothing will change, no matter what I do. I think that's because time is relative and a human concept and it's not real and everything's happening and has already happened and hasn't happened yet and I just..."

You stop rambling to groan. "Everything is confusing and it makes me feel stupid. I'd just rather not answer some of the questions about the future. I'm fine with minor things, like what a cellphone can do and how the Earth is royally fucked, but big things? That's gonna be a no-no from me."

Britain blinks a few times before huffing out a laugh. "Uh. Sure." You can feel the USSR's glare on the back of your neck. You shudder and turn to face him. All four of you start to walk. "Yes?" You ask. He gives you a mocking look. "Just wondering how you have managed to fool Britain." The country in question squawks indignantly, but you shush him and respond yourself.

"Because he saw my phone in action. If you really want some proof, I can tell you the exact year, month, and day that you dissolve." You give him a sickly sweet grin before your face falls. "Wait, shit, I don't remember the month. Fuckin'... oh. Yeah. Nevermind, I do. Continue with what you were gonna say."

China cuts him off with a nervous grin. "Hey, why don't we just... have a normal conversation? Without any weird future talks?"

You shrug. "Kinda hard when that's all I know, but eh. Sure." Britain stops you before you can go any further. "Found one." Lo and behold, there is indeed a power outlet in the wall. You sigh in relief and crouch down beside it, pulling your charger, block, and phone out if their respective places. You clumsily put the cord and block together before jabbing it into the wall, plugging in your phone once you've done so. The Soviet Union steps forwards. "Are you really going to trust them to-"

He pauses when your phone's charging icon appears in the middle of the screen. You waste no time in turning it on. It's deathly quiet between the four of you until the screen comes on fully after going through the start-up sequence. You unlock it before showing it to everyone, USSR in particular. "Now, see here, children," You crone, swiping over to Google Chrome, "This is how you find information nowadays."

Quickly, you type, How large was the Soviet Union. Reading aloud, you make eye contact with USSR.

"With an area of 22,402,200 square kilometers (8,649,500 sq mi), the Soviet Union was the world's largest country, a status that is retained by the Russian Federation. Covering a sixth of Earth's land surface, its size was comparable to that of North America. Cited from Wikipedia."

You glance back at your phone and purse your lips. "I'm going to Google something real quick," You mutter, turning so that they can't see your screen. When was Pearl Harbor bombed. Opening up the Wikipedia article, you speed-scroll down to the exact time: 'The attack commenced at 7:48 a.m. Hawaiian Time (18:18 GMT).' Opening another tab, you type, Hawaiian Time to Russian Time. That's what timezone your phone is going off of, at the moment. Plus 13.

It's currently 8:00 PM, or 7:00 AM Hawaiian Time. Shit.

You can feel your hands start to shake. Going back to the article, you check each side's casualties. 2467 people total, and that's not counting the injured. USSR catches on to your beginning panic and crouched down in front of you. "The hell are you doing?" He grunts. You pull your phone to your chest and exhale slowly. "Thinking. About... about something that's going to happen. Shit, it's like 45 minutes from now. It's bad, it's really bad, but this is something that needs to happen, otherwise they won't join and things will all go to the dogs and we can't have the war ending, now, can we?" You're starting to ramble. Again.

"It... it has to happen. It really does. But I feel bad, horrible, knowing that I could probably stop it." You have no clue why in God's name your venting to the man in front of you, but you are. A bead of sweat makes its way down the back of your neck, and you shiver. "I have to let this happen."

"Let what happen?" Britain chirps. USSR gives him a pointed look before turning back to you. "Da, what?"

You swallow thickly. "So... You... How long would it take for you to get a message to America? Because... Because if I'm going to say this, I can't have you tell them before it happens. No matter how many people die, this has to happen." China is the first one to speak up. "We won't contact him. I don't know about you two, but I'm kind of inclined to trust this person. It's weird."

Britain nods and sits down beside you on the ground. USSR does a double take at this, but you don't think much of it. "I have to agree. For starters, I've seen your technology in action, so I don't doubt you, but I also have that odd feeling." He states. They both turn to USSR. He scowls deeply. "I don't trust you one bit, but I won't tell either."

You give them all a shaky smile and check the time. Only three minutes have passed. Exhaling softly, you keep your eyes down, flicking between your phone, hands, and lap. "So... Imperial Japan, they... uhm... They sort of... Bomb? Pearl Harbor? And... and they destroy a lot of America's Naval and Air fleets, along with..." You turn your phone back on and re-check the article. "2,335 people. On America's side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeyee juice  
> so like i know i sort of died but i finished up the last chapter yesterday after ignoring it for like a month. but i just sat down and wrote this chapter in, like, two hours and i'm gonna start on the next. writers block and inspiration are hoes úwù.


	7. I Want You To Know You Could Know Me

Britain refuses to look at you after you finish speaking. You tilt your head back, trying to suppress supposedly unwarranted tears. The guilt is crushing you, and all you did was withhold information. Information that will cost two thousand people their lives.

The first tear slips out, and as you try to wipe it away, more take its place. They quickly start to stream down your face as you draw your knees up to your chest, phone discarded on the ground. "Shit," You whisper, drawing your hand back into your sleeve. You wipe your face with the end before giving up and burying your face inbetween your legs. "God, I'm so fucking stupid!" All of your frustration bubbles out and you dig your nails into your palms. 

Britain still isn't looking at you. USSR's brow is furrowed, but with which emotion, you can't tell. China is the first to move. "You're crying." He notes. You roll your eyes. "Gee, I wonder why!" You snap, futilely scrubbing your face with your sleeve to try and see him better. It doesn't work. His lip twitches. "Don't yell at me. I'm not the one making this decision."

You scowl, but can't retort. He's right, he's not. You are, and you know you shouldn't vent your frustrations by yelling at people. Still, it's very easy to do so, a hell of a lot easier than actually talking through things.

USSR finally speaks, readjusting his squat as he does so. "Why do you not just... Tell him? People will live if you do. Thousands of them." You snap your head over to look at him, scanning his weather-beaten face for any hint of scorn. It's not there. After a few heartbeats of silence, you sigh. "Because if this happens, if Pearl Harbor is attacked by an Axis Power, don't you think America may join the war? On the side opposite the attacker?"

Britain glances at you, finally. The raw emotion on his face makes you visibly flinch. "How long?" He asks quietly. "How long what?" You echo. He glances away again. "How long until he joins the war?" Is his whispered response. The other two countries nearby perk up at the question, looking at you expectantly. You cave in and give them the correct answer. "If today's the 7th of December, then... four days. The 11th."

Britain sucks in a breath as the Soviet Union gets to his feet. He extends his hand to help Britain up. Your tears have come to a stop by now, but there's more in there. You just want to go somewhere more private.

To your surprise, USSR holds out his hand to help you up, too. You squint at it before taking it, getting yanked to your feet with more force than you expected. You stumble for a solid 6 inches before coming to a stop. "And I oop-" You manage to chuckle, putting one hand on the wall. You glance over at the countries behind you. China flashes you a weak smile.

"I'm sorry I'm making you guys do this." You suddenly blurt out. The USSR rolls his eyes. "You aren't making us do anything. You said what you were doing, and we agreed to do the same." He mutters. You nod silently. You take a few steps back over to them and wordlessly grab your phone off the ground, unplugging it from the cord and the cord from the wall. Both go back in your pocket. Thank god for fast charging, you have around 25% battery. That'll last you for a little bit if your ration it well.

China exhales quietly before looking at everyone. He's bouncing on his heels. "We ought to get back to our meeting... Though, I have no idea what we're to talk about, since this whole meet-up was for convincing America." Britain cracks a very weak smile at that before he shrugs. "I mean, there's really no reason for us to continue, is there? We could all just... go home. I'll be preparing to comfort my son, so..." He trailed off a little awkwardly. The other two nod. 

"Da."  
"Duí."

You jolt. "Wait, where- Where am I supposed to go?"

All three countries look at each other. "Ah, blyat- Not it." You give him an unamused look. He raises his eyebrows with an equal glare. "Do you really want to spend the night with 15 children? I've got a family." You're honestly surprised by that. The other two are quietly arguing. They finally stop, Britain looking dejected. "No offence, (Y/N), but I'd rather not..." China mutters. You try for a reassuring smile. "That's fine, I totally get it. I am pretty annoying." You stick your tongue out when he tries to protest.

"So I'm spending the night with the old man. Wow, title of my porno." You snort. Britain chokes on air. If USSR had water in his mouth, he would have done a spit take. "What the f-" 

"Oh my god I'm sorry I forgot old people don't like that kind of humor fuck I just called you old heck heckity heck heck. Kindly do not shoot me an I'll make it up to you. Maybe. Don't count on it though."

The Soviet Union chuckles a little and claps you on the shoulder. "You're rather bold around us, for a normal human." You wince at that. "Yeah, that's the thing, my universe doesn't really have anything like you guys. So, to me, you are normal humans." You say. He pauses before opening his mouth. And then closing it again. "Wig just got snatched," You whisper. He eyes you oddly but doesn't comment. "That's... huh. I've never... huh." 

"I get that you're utterly shooketh over this not-that-astounding revelation, but we should probably go. You've got fifteen kids and apparently some game to have that many babies, China's got... I don't really know what he's got but I'm sure there's something... And Britain's got his own kid who's about to be bombed." That seems to sober everyone up again, but you keep prattling. "If I'm staying with Oldie Locks over there, we need to go ahead and skedaddle. There's, like, 20 minutes until shit hits the fan."

USSR nods and lets go of your shoulder that you didn't know he was still holding. Britain is picking at the end of his glove in anticipation. You nod at the other two countries before going to join Britain, flashing him a smile. It's not real, but he doesn't need to know that. He holds out his arm and you accept, the two of you striding away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha 🅱enis this one was a little bit dark at the beginning  
> also there's literally 7 different ways to say Yes in Chinese and I had to figure out which was right it took me like 20 minutes y'all better appreciate that


	8. I'd Rather Be Free

You and Britain had both bolted as soon as you were out of other people's sights. His put-together facade had shattered the moment you hit the tree line, panic written over every inch of his body. Unsurprisingly, he was a hell of a lot faster than you. He had to do a U-turn to grab you by the wrist and drag you along, not stopping for a second. You squealed as the snow pounded your face. When had it started snowing outside? Probably when you were passed out.

The path suddenly becomes ragged and overgrown ahead of the two of you. "Britain, wh-" Your question is cut off. You hadn't even blinked, but where a dark, brooding mass of limbs and leaves had been, there was suddenly the cobbled streets of London. You do a double take, staring around with wide eyes. You've never been to London before. Britain doesn't give you much time to look around, though, since he's still pushing through the crowds to get home. Or is he?

He rounds the corner of a building, still gripping your wrist. It's starting to hurt, but you aren't going to complain. His kid is about to be put through a rather traumatic event, after all. While he can't stop it, he can help with the aftermath.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by the stink of fish. You gag a little as Britain lets go of your wrist, giving you a chance to pull your turtleneck's collar over your nose. "Holy balls," You mutter, eyeing your surroundings with distaste. "It smells like actual shit out here." Britain pointedly ignores your comment, instead continuing to rapidly chat with a normal human.

He finishes his argument, looking smug; he hands you a keychain and starts to walk away. "My house is [literally any address]! Those are the keys! Don't break anything!" He calls over his shoulder. You try to protest, but he waves and disappears into the crowd. You scowl and tighten your grip on your keys. Your bag's shoulder straps are digging into, well, your shoulders, and the smell of fish is really starting to get to you. "Fuckin' hell..."

•|∆|• Small Timeskip •|∆|•

"[Same address as before]," You mutter, staring at the keys in your hand. The address has turned out to be a rather large two story house, with a relatively small gate and path leading up to the front door. Go figure. 

You'd been wondering why there were four different keys on the keychain, but you know for at least two. The gate has a lock on it, and you know for a fact the house does as well. That leaves two others that you'll have to ask about when Britain gets back. You sigh and pull your phone out of your pocket. When you read the time, you have to blink, rub your eyes, and glance at the pitch-black sky. The moon is having trouble providing enough light on the path, judging by the clouds covering it.

"Already been 8 hours? Damn." You smile to yourself, looking at each of the four keys. Unsurprisingly, the one that's the exact same color and shade as the gate is the one to unlock it. The steel beams swing open with a creak, letting you step on the gravel pathway. The tiny rocks crunch underfoot as you push the gate closed, locking it once you're done. 

A light flickers on in the house.

You go rigid before letting out a slow, shaky breath. Despite it being a time of war, you force out a few words. "It's... it's just a servant or something. If those are still a modern thing, he'll probably have a couple. He's literally Great Britain. Of course there'll be a maid or two cleaning up while he's out." You don't believe yourself, but you don't have many options. You could always just book it and run...

Your mind is made up for you when a child screams from inside the house. Your eyes go wider than you would have thought possible as you scramble to get to the house. A kid?! There was no way on God's green Earth that was an adult that screamed, it was too... squeal-y. If that made sense.

You fling open the door, not bothering to be worried about the fact that it was already unlocked. The child screams again, more frantic this time. Your pound up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The door with the light under it is the one you scramble to open. After struggling with the 'knob for a solid second, you take a few steps back before running at it with full force. Your foot slams into the center and damn-near shatters it.

In a brightly lit bedroom, with a queen-sized bed, a small desk, a few trinkets, and an open window, sits two people you immediately recognize as not-humans. The adult you recognize with ease. Imperial Japan's grip tightens on the child's shoulders, making them whimper. You have no idea who the kid is, though. 

They met your eyes and almost sob with relief. Imperial Japan narrows their eyes at you. "And who might you be?" They coo, stepping forwards. You catch sight of a weapon gleaming behind the child's back, pressing into their neck, but you have no idea what kind. You try not to give in to stereotypes as much as possible, buuuut you have a feeling it's a katana.

"I'm not going to tell you who I am. What I am going to tell you is to let go of that kid." You respond, careful not to move too much. You know that if you do, Imperial Japan could slit the child's throat and disappear before you got to them. 

Japan just smirks and draws the child closer to their body. "Now, now, let's not be so hasty. If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll just..." The child gasps and arches their back. You take a step back. "Okay! Okay. I'm... I'm (Y/N)." You shakily respond. Japan's smirk melts into a sadistic grin. "Good, good. Now, where's that old coot?"

"Y...You Britain?"

"No, I mean the mailman- Yes, of course I mean Britain!"

You wince at the same time as the kid. Your heart feels like it may break through your ribcage at any moment. "He's out. Not even in the country." When Japan starts to move, you clarify, "He went to go help America."

Japan nods and starts to step towards the window. Almost against your will, you shoot forawards. Japan's weapon (it really was a katana!) meets your neck before you even reach them fully. The child looks like they might vomit. You hold their gaze for a moment before turning to look at Japan. "Take me with you. I know you want the kid, but please- I- I can be useful."

When Japan's amused look dissolved into one of distaste and annoyance, you rush out, "I'm from the future, 78 years in the future, 2019, I can prove it if you want, but I'd say I'm a hell of a lot more valuable than some kid!"

Japan's face looks like it may split in two with how wide they grin. "Excellent! Reich'll be delighted with you!"

The butt of their weapon slams into your skull, knocking you unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vwoops into your washing machine* shit im stuck  
> but, uh, i dont know jack diddly squat about Great Britain during this time period?? so feel free to scream at me for inaccuracies. i've been looking for a way to add the axis powers in but then I read up on how Japan and Britain fight over Hong Kong and I lost my damn marbles its like god went "yeet here's a sudden burst of energy and ideas"


	9. i want to speak to the interdimensional manager

After getting both your ego and skull completely fucking decimated by Imperial Japan, you regain consciousness tied to a chair. You do a pretty good intimidation of the White Guy Blinking GIF as you gaze around the room. There's admittedly not all that much to look at. It's dimly lit, the farthest corners completely darkened. The room is a perfect square, with dull grey brick walls and a metal door made of bars. You can see through the gaps, but it's too dark to make out any shapes. Fun.

You've been tied up with ropes (totally not cliche) that are very well tied. You actually do take a moment to appreciate the knotwork before the door clatters. You snap your eyes up and see a green hand unlocking the door with a keyring. Against your better thoughts, you mumble, "Hulk? Is that you?" The door swings open and barely misses slamming into the wall. A shiny black heeled boot catches it at the last second, the rest of the body following closely behind.

"Holy fucking shit." You whisper as Fascist Italy strides into the room. "Oh Lord Jesus."

The country in question raises an unamused eyebrow. "Japan claims you're a time-traveler." He begins, wasting no time. "Judging from what that lunatic has said and believed in the past, I wouldn't trust them that much, but I _am_ a little intrigued. While we were checking you over for weapons and such, we found this." He pulls your cellphone out from God-knows-where and waves it in front of your face. "It's got a passcode. Mind explaining what the hell it is?"

You snap your gaze away from his ass and suck in a breath. "Uhm- yeah. Yeah, sure. You know what a phone is, right? Well, think a phone that can also write messages to people, play music, play videos, play games, have an Artificial Intelligence, let you research anything in the world, let you buy practically anything you'd need and some things you don't, order food, look up pictures, interact with anybody across the world in real-time..." You trail off, furrowing your brow slightly to try and remember anything else there might be. Italy is giving you a heavily disbelieving look. "Uh... yeah, I think that's it? I mean there're things like a camera and flashlight on there too but those are kinda eh. Only useful sometimes."

"Uh-huh..."

You draw your lips into a thin line. "Well, damn, if you don't believe me that much, you could always just let me show you. Or- wait, uh- When it asks for the passcode, type in [A random pin]." Italy pauses before complying. The screen comes to life, making him jump. "3%? What does that mean?" He demands, snapping his head over to face you. You squeak. "You need to plug it in so it doesn't die. Charger's in my bag, front pocket. Cord in the white block, white block in the wall." You jerk your head back.

"And how am I supposed to know that this isn't a bomb at 3% power, waiting to be fully charged to blow us all up?"

"You're not, you just have to trust me. You don't even have to charge it all the way, just enough to keep the battery alive for a bit. Hurry up, or it'll die. That'll set us back, like, two whole minutes."

It's quiet before Italy sets the phone down face-down on your lap. "You do it, then." You open your mouth to protest that your hands are still tied, but the ropes fall away in an instant. A knife slides back into his pocket. You shudder and click the power off button on instinct, making sure it won't die in your hands. Lifting your back off your shoulders, you dig through the front pocket for a moment before procuring the right items. "Uh... Do you have, like... A power outlet? Anywhere? I kinda left my portable one at home, which makes me a stupid bitch. That would have solved, like, _so_ many issues I had earlier."

"Italy, that's enough. I'll be taking over." A cold voice snaps. You instinctively flinch back at it, though you have no clue why. Italy gives you one final look before striding out of the room, saluting whoever's still in the darkened hallway on his way out. Into the room steps someone who makes actual bile rise in your throat.

A symbol that you don't want to name is blazed across their face, framed by a circle of white, the rest of their skin a violent shade of red. They're wearing a black uniform adorned with medals, white gloves, an iron cross sitting on their collarbone, and a black cap with a metal pin of an eagle. You honestly want to vomit at the sight.

He seems to sense your disgust, as he grins a sickening grin and steps forwards. "The Third Reich of Germany." He introduces himself. You suppress a gag.

"I know who you are. I know what you are. And I know how you end."

The 'smile' on the Third Reich's face quickly melts into anger. He shoots forwards and grabs the collar of your turtleneck, bringing his mouth to your ear. "You are going to tell me what I want to know, and you're going to tell me _now_ , or else I'll blow your brains to the wall." You scowl despite the fear bubbling in your chest. "...Fine. What it is you want to know?" You finally spit out.

The Third Reich grins and steps back, slamming the door shut. You wince at the sound. "I want to know what that is." He points at your phone. You raise an eyebrow. "Couldn't you hear Italy?" The Third Reich's lip twitches in disgust for a heartbeat. "Yes. I also know that you were lying." You purse your lips and sigh heavily. "Well, if that's how you feel, then I can't help you, _sir_." You say the word with as much venom as you can muster. You shut your eyes and shrug, missing Third Reich's quick footsteps towards you. "You can do what you want, but the truth is the truth."

Your next words are choked out by a quick jab to the gut. You cough and almost drop your phone, fumbling and grabbing it as fast as humanly possible. The charger isn't as lucky, clattering noisily against the concrete floor. You get to stare at it as you sit there, hunched over and wheezing, trying to regain your breath. The Third Reich gives you what you would have called a disappointed look, had you thought him capable of it.

He clicks his tongue a few times, pacing around your chair like a predator to prey. "Come on, (Y/N), you can do better than that," He crones. You don't bother to question where he got your name from, already knowing that it was Japan. "Just tell me the truth, and nobody gets hurt. Alright?"

You spit on his shoe as soon as he's close enough. "Fuck. You." You manage to wheeze out.

Your head slams against the ground less than a second after the final syllable. You can feel blood trickling down the sides of your skull and getting stuck in your hair. You can _also_ feel a boot being pressed onto the side of your head not bleeding onto the floor. Your thoughts are a little jumbled as your vision keeps coming and going. RIP in peace to my charger, You think. The pressure increases on your head. You can't see anymore, but whether it's from blood in your eyes or something else, you can't tell.

"Worm."

Everything goes dark for _a second goddamn time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like... there's not many other ways of portraying what just happened. miss kesha fuckin died. rest in pepperoni, you might be missed i guess. i hope they play that one song you wanted at your funeral like you asked in that one youtube comment. 
> 
> August 30th Update:  
> This chapter was last updated on July 1st and it's almost September. uhhhhh i think i might just write some more of this, idk tho. If this gets discontinued im sorry but i'll try and pull a Frankenstein and revive it. uwu.


	10. (not a chapter, but important)

OKAY SO I'm thinking about rewriting this since it's really old and bad and all... Which means I'd either have to 

A.) Unpublish all of the chapters that are currently up

Or

B.) Leave this up as an unfinished hiatus work until I can catch a rewrite up to what's already been written and THEN unpublish it.

The second option sounds better, so that's probably what I'll do. Considering the fact that I am Bad At Consistency And Timing, I might not ever catch a rewrite up to this, or write any of it at all... Oops.

There's nothing going on in my life or anything to make me do/say any of this, other than my own inability to pick this back up, lmao. The plot was pretty bad, if I'm being honest, and also pretty rushed,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ahhh I'm just rambling at this point. I think I'll probably try to rewrite it,,,,, thaste it bye


End file.
